Awake
by Pittsy
Summary: Gwen forced her eyes closed and sternly instructed herself to forget the awkward tension, forget the danger of the situation, forget that she was a maid alone in a small house with a handsome prince. It wasn't working. 2x02.


**A/N:** This is totally random. I saw tonight's episode of Merlin and was surprisingly inspired. I've not written fan fic in ages and I've NEVER written Merlin fan fic so beware. But...here I go, I suppose. I also feel that I should add that this took me absolutely ages to write. Its not that long but it took at least 2 hours to write. 2 hours out of my busy forum surfing schedule!

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**Awake**

Gwen hated dimples. Usually she was quite partial to them but under the circumstances she felt that dimples had shown themselves to be the enemy.

It was dimples that had begged and pleaded and told her that Merlin would be her best friend ever if she did this one tiny favour for him. It was dimples that had given her extra chores for the past few days and made her a servant in her own home. It was dimples that had meant she had to spend the night on a bag of potatoes. It was dimples that had brought about this incredibly uncomfortable silence.

She knew he wasn't asleep from the simple fact that it didn't sound like her house was doubling as a pigpen. There was a heaviness in the air that was almost stifling, despite the coolness of the summers night, that told her that he knew she was also awake.

She stifled a sigh and watched the mesmerising fluttering of the curtain separating them. It was strange knowing that he was only feet away, that she could hear him breathing, that she was so close to the Crown Prince of Camelot. How many girls would kill to be there in her place right now? How Gwen longed to be anywhere else at all.

She'd dreamt about him once. Just once. She had woken in the middle of the night, burning, with his face seared across the inside of her eyelids and the imagined feel of his hands and his broad shoulders making her insides quiver. Despite the fact that she knew that it was natural, that it didn't mean anything at all, that many girls of the kingdom must dream of the great Prince Arthur, she had felt embarrassed, and ashamed, and, worst of all, stupid. She was _not _like the others. She did not know how to swoon, did not want to know, and the fact that he made her feel those unfamiliar feelings scared her.

He was a Prince. She would not entertain ideas- not even fantasies- above her station.

She forced her eyes closed and sternly instructed herself to forget the awkward tension, forget the danger of the situation, forget that she was a maid alone in a small house with a handsome prince. She would sleep.

"Guinevere?" his rough voice drifted across the room in a whisper, breaking the heavy silence.

Her eyes snapped open. "Yes, my Lord?" She hoped he hadn't suddenly thought of another chore that he desperately needed attending to before the morning.

"Uhm," she heard the hesitance in his voice, something that she very rarely was witness to, "do you think me handsome?"

After a short- and shocked- moment of silence, Gwen stifled a giggle and replied, "My Lord?"

"Please. Answer truthfully." He sounded sincere and extremely embarrassed.

Gwen didn't know how to answer. In truth, she thought him more than handsome, she thought he had beauty to rival the Gods, but she also knew that there was no way that she could tell him that.

"Yes, my Lord, everyone thinks you're handsome."

"Oh." He paused. "And you're not just saying that because of...who I am?"

"No, my Lord. I wouldn't hesitate to tell you if you were ugly."

"Oh. Good." He fell into silence and what Gwen could only assume was deep thoughts about his handsomeness.

She smirked at his vanity and studied the thatch of the ceiling without really seeing it. He was such a riddle. He was stupid and arrogant and rash and everything that was wrong with the nobility. He lusted after power and glory and had no care for the consequences. For years, he had had no one to tell him he was wrong, to tell him when he was acting like a pompous buffoon, to curb what Merlin would call his 'prattish' nature.

However, despite it all she had always, somehow, seen his goodness. She didn't know how or why but she had never had a doubt over the strength of his heart. His honour and nobility knew no bounds and she knew how much he cared, more than he probably should. She knew that he had and would again sacrifice himself for his people and, despite his flaws, she would always love him for that. Not love- no- she didn't mean- she meant- as a woman loves her King- wait, she didn't mean that she _feels_- as a woman- she meant-

She didn't know what she meant.

Gwen gulped and eyed the fluttering sheet concealing her from her Prince. It was going to be a long night.

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**A/N:** So what did you think? Comments are love :D


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